


mirror, mirror, on the wall

by UncrownedKing



Series: chivalry [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bruises, Cursing/Swearing, Disassociation, Gen, Remus mention, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Soreness, Suicidal Thoughts, damn i really did it in for my boy roman sanders didn't i, death mention, descriptions of violence, falling from a tall height, i think those are all the warnings but pls lmk, if i fucked up anythin', self-deprecation, yee fuckin haw lads lets g O O OO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 23:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncrownedKing/pseuds/UncrownedKing
Summary: ....which Roman is the fairest of them all?if you haven't read the main plot of chivalry is dead, or at least the first chapter of chivalry is dead, then i highkey recommend. you won't need to read all of it to make sense of this, just chapter 1. chronologically, this occurs right after chapter 1 :^) it just will spoil some teensy thingsWhen he first came to after the fall, Roman was confused. Who were these six other people? And why did they call themselves Roman, too?





	mirror, mirror, on the wall

The first few seconds were disorienting, if anything.

Roman — though, he didn’t feel much like Roman anymore, funnily enough — pushed his aching body up off of the ground, groaning softly as he felt his tense muscles tug against himself. Everything was sore. What had happened?

The cloud. The cloud had picked him up and, like a fool, he’d given in to the Imagination. Then again, sometimes the subconscious knew more than he was willing to admit to himself. 

_ Stupid useless Prince _ .

Woah now. Roman clutched the side of his head, shifting so he could rest all of his weight on his butt. Where had that thought come from? Sure, he was prone to insecurity, but that was so clear….

Someone beside him groaned, too, and Roman flinched. He scooted back and finally looked up around himself. 

They were sitting in a patch of grass, a towering castle in the distance, a forest on the other side. The first world he’d ever created, it seemed, Prince Roman’s kingdom. It was dusk, the sun had newly set, and there were a few clouds populating the sky. Vaguely, Roman wondered if Remus was near. 

_ Come, please, I miss you _ .

….What the fuck was wrong with him. 

Roman looked around at the “they” he’d neglected to notice. He didn’t want to consider who they even were, but it wasn’t like he could ignore it, if there were another split. He wasn’t ready for another Split. There were six other bodies, each bearing striking resemblances save for one who seemed to be a child. Imagine that, a child. It must be something similar to a split at least.

They all seemed to be in similar states of fresh awakenness, too. One of them, wearing a white sweatshirt and black sweatpants, was sitting up on his knees. His stare (through a pair of glasses, Roman noted) matched Roman’s as they inspected each other. Roman tilted his head slowly, simultaneous to when this other form did. 

Someone else groaned, to Roman’s left, and this new person sat upright in an almost comical fashion. He straightened his legs across the grass and bent upwards using his core muscles, arms slouched in his lap. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around at Roman and the other, and Roman’s eyes gazed over his red waist sash (a sash?) and red vest over a stylized shirt and pants. He noted dully that this person’s pants were adorned with mountains and swirls similar to his own crest’s, and how the other’s sweatshirt had small waves on the arms like the crest again. 

What was going on here?

The other, who bore a striking resemblance to Roman himself, pointed at him. And, slowly, a smile spread across his face. “You’re the Prince!” his voice had a melodiousness to it, as though every word he spoke was sung, “Oh, wonderful, what a pleasure!”

The other awake person just scowled at Roman, and turned away to look at the others on the ground. Okay, they all looked vaguely like Roman, and he was a little unnerved; this was definitely another split situation. One, wearing a thick black cloak and red gloves, was burrowed into his clothing and watching the ongoings with squinted eyes. He met Roman’s gaze for only a second before glaring even more angrily and turning away. 

“I….am Prince Roman, yes,” Roman turned away from the cloaked form to look at the one who had addressed him, “And you are?”

He grinned. “I’m Roman the Bard, thank you very much,” he hopped to his feet and bowed sweepingly. 

An interesting name choice, no doubt. Roman wondered how self centered he had gotten to start naming their characters after himself. Where had those desolate thoughts dragged him to now?

_ To hell, where you belong _ .

“Funny,” another figure, who was still laying on the ground, though had his boot-covered feet kicked up in a nonchalant way, “I’m Roman the Dragon. ‘S there any reason we’ve got the same name? Do you all have the same name, too?”

The one in the sweatshirt pulled his knees closer to his chest, watching the one called ‘dragon’ warily. “I...I think so. I think I’m Roman the Artist,” he looked at the final adult form, who had pushed himself up off of the ground and was brushing himself down, fully ignoring the rest of the group with his back turned, “And...you are?”

The final adult, who wore a red vest with the ribbon from Roman’s crest across the back, shot them all a glare over his shoulder. “What’s that to you?” he hummed, fixing his own glasses, “It’s clear we’ve separated for a reason.”

“Yes, but what reason! Doesn’t that intrigue you?” the Bard hopped over the child, towards the other in the vest, “We’re all Roman! Isn’t it wonderful to be?”

While he grabbed the other adult and twirled him into an unwilling dance, Roman himself felt a pit open metaphorically in his stomach. What had the Imagination done? They were all different Romans? Different parts of him? Or all the same part, just dressed and cast differently? What did that make HIM? 

Was this an audition? For whom would be the best Roman? And, if so, what was the strategy?

He….had to kill them. Yes, of course. He had to prove that he was the best. His heart clenched. 

_ You’re not the best. None of them are. None of you are _ .

Maybe….they didn’t have to die.

“What’s the purpose of splitting Roman like this, though?” the Artist stood up with a scowl, “It feels like a waste of time. I just want to go back to drawing, creating, we have a new video to plan for. We have work to do.”

“Oh, like any of your plans have ever been efficient,” the Dragon stood as well, and Roman finally saw the twirling horns in his hair, “I think this is a chance for us to flush out all the inefficient parts of us. Like, look at that one.”

He pointed to the one child, who was sitting up now, cross legged and watching the group interact. The child pointed to himself as the Dragon continued. “What’s a child doing here? Roman’s, like, thirty. We aren’t a kid!”

“Well,” the child stood up, raising his arms up to the sky, “What if we wanted to feel like a kid sometimes! I think that, bein’ Creativity means we gotta be okay with being a little childish, right?”

All of them scoffed, except for Roman and the one in the cloak (who hadn’t spoken this whole time).

“Why would we want to willingly act childish? How will the others take us seriously, then?” said the one in the vest, tie, and glasses, who hadn’t named himself, “No, no, I’m above these squabbles. Someone should maintain the Imagination while you all sort this out.”

“‘You all?’ You’re a part of this, too, Much Ado About Nerds,” the Artist snapped, “Ugh, this is a waste of time and energy.”

“On the contrary, I think it’ll be fun! I’ve always wanted to get to know myself some more, and what better way to do it than to hang out with myself!” the Bard twirled in place and wrapped an arm around the sweatshirted one’s shoulders, “We can watch Disney movies together! Talk about feelings!”

“Take your gross feelings and shove it,” the Artist said, shoving the Bard off of his arm, “I don’t give a shit about whatever introspection we’re doin’ here. I just wanna make.”

Roman sat on his knees, watching the argument unfold. The Dragon stood between the Artist and the Bard, shouting something about pruning the hedge. Then the one in the tie stepped closer, claiming that they were wasting time. Roman wasn’t even sure there was time to be wasting. Wasn’t this all a waste of time?

_ Aren’t I just a waste? _

He ran a hand through his hair again and winced. 

Don’t think about that. He looked over at the one in the black cloak, who was whispering quietly with the child, who’s scooted over on his knees. They exchanged words a little, before one of the other adults (the Artist, who seemed to be the most confrontationally angry of the group) whipped around and pointed a finger at the child.

“If we’re all getting riled up about who’s best and who’s worst, then we gotta start from the bottom,” he said, explosive and angry, “Why do we have a kid here?!”

“Because sometimes we gotta be childish! And that’s okay!” the Bard said, full of glitter and mountains and glee. “Sometimes we want to sing a ditty and be happy! What’s that to you?”

“He’s a distraction. A nuisance, at best, and a liability at worst,” said the one with a tie and vest and prim and properness.

The final one, with horns and smoke exhaling from his nostrils and a murderous gleam in his eyes, clapped his black-gloved hands excitedly. The Dragon; Roman was immediately wary of him. “We could kill him first! We could string him up and tear his limbs off one by one! Or we could tie him to the back of a horse and have it run through the town, let him drag against the ground until it gets paved in his blood!”

Roman himself, and all the other adults, turned to the Dragon with matching looks of disgust. 

“Um. No?” the Artist said, “No, we’re not gonna do that? I never said anything about murder?”

“Well, why not? If we’re gonna kill each other, maybe we should make it fun!”

“I don’t think,” they all looked down at the kid, whose hands were shaking in his lap. The one with the black cloak was gone, now, and when did he disappear? “I don’t think we-we have to kill each other. I dunno if that’s the-the point.”

There was a pause, then more chaos. 

“Why WOULD that be the point? He’s right, who brought that up!”

“He did! Of course he did, look at him — you look like Remus coulda made you.”

“How DARE you! I’m nothing like that moron — I’m Roman!”

“So are all of us, dumb shit.”

“Hey, yeah, we do look kinda similar.”

“We obviously are separate for a reason, and I’m pretty sure that reason is so that we can kick each other’s asses.”

“Well, if we’re kicking asses—”

_ Start with the least useful. _

“—let’s start with the Prince.”

Yes, lets. 

Roman blinked, looking around at the adults as they all turned to him. He bit his lip and slowly pushed himself up. 

He must have bruised upon entry to the Imagination, because his sides were all kinds of sore, arms sore, legs sore. He held a nearby tree as he stood up. “Start with kicking my ass?” he asked, pointing to himself. “Am….Am I the Prince?”

“Yes, yes, you ARE, you dimwitted dynast,” the Dragon huffed out an exhalation of smoke, hand reaching around for his sword, “Oh, yes, I’d love to kill Mister Goody Two Shoes.” 

“I dunno,” the Bard waved his hand in front of him, drawing his attention, “I don’t think we need to fight, that doesn’t feel productive. We could just talk this out!”

“....Nothing we ever do is productive, so why bother? I’m leaving,” the one in the vest and tie pushed his glasses up and, in an instant, disappeared. 

The Artist clicked his tongue in disapproval, grumbling about how they hadn’t even gotten his name before looking around at everyone as well “We’re wasting precious time here, time that we should be spending working. We’ve got a production schedule to keep up.”

The Dragon squinted at him and drew his sword. “You think this is a waste of time?” he hissed, “I’ll show you waste.”

He lunged forward with the blade, and the toddler screamed. Everyone broke fast after that. The one in the sweatshirt turned, running immediately towards the town. The one who’s been advocating for peace also turned and ran, though deeper into the forest. Perhaps toward the tree? Roman had to think that was where the cloaked one had gone. It...seemed to fit. 

The child. That kid. The Dragon was still standing there, and though his back was towards Roman and the child, Roman could tell he wasn’t done. He had to act fast. He had to save

_ The last good part. _

The last good part. 

_ The rest can die _

including myself.

But we need to protect the Child.

Roman scooped the toddler up into his arms, ignoring whatever he was saying, and immediately began running in the opposite direction. Whatever happened, whatever hurt him, he had to make sure the child was safe. He had to protect his innocent heart. It was all that was left to protect.


End file.
